Kissed by an Angel by Elizabeth Chandler

Author:Elizabeth Chandler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2002-12-31T23:00:00+00:00

10

“But you told me Gary wanted to go out Friday night,” Ivy said.

“He did,” Tristan replied, lying back next to her in the grass. “But his date changed her mind. I think she got a better offer.”

Ivy shook her head. “Why does Gary always chase the golden girls?”

“Why does Suzanne chase Gregory?” he countered.

Ivy smiled. “Same reason Ella chases butterflies, I guess.” She watched the cat’s leaping ballet. Ella was very much at home in Reverend Carruthers’s garden. In the midst of snapdragons, lilies, roses, and herbs, Tristan’s father had planted a little patch of catnip.

“Is Saturday night a problem?” Tristan asked. “If you’re working, we could make it a late movie.”

Ivy sat up. Tristan came first with her, always. But with their plans set for Friday night and Sunday too—well, she might as well blurt it out, she thought. “Gregory has invited Suzanne, Beth, and me out with some of his friends that night.”

Tristan didn’t hide his surprise or his displeasure.

“Suzanne was so eager,” Ivy said quickly. “And Beth was really excited, too—she doesn’t go out very much.”

“And you?” Tristan asked, propping himself up on one elbow, twisting a long piece of grass.

“I think I should go—for Gregory’s sake.”

“You’ve been doing a lot for Gregory’s sake in the last few weeks.”

“Tristan, his mother killed herself!” Ivy exploded.

“I know that.”

“I live in the same house with him,” she went on. “I share the same kitchen and hallways and family room. I see his moods, his ups and downs. Lots of downs,” she added softly, thinking about how some days Gregory did nothing but sit and read the newspaper, thumbing through it as if in search of something, but never finding it.

“I think he’s very angry,” she went on. “He tries to hide it, but I think he’s (furious at his mother for killing herself. The other night, onethirty in the morning, he was out on the tennis court, banging balls against the wall.”

That night, Ivy had gone out to talk to him. When she had called to him, he turned, and she had seen the depth of his anger and his pain.

“Believe me, Tristan, I help him when I can, and I’ll keep on helping him, but if you think I have any special feelings for him, if you think he and I—That’s ridiculous! If you think—I can’t believe you’d—”

“Whoa, whoa.” He wrestled her down in the grass with him.

“I’m not worried about anything like that.”

“Then what’s bugging you?”

“Two things, I guess,” he replied. “One, I think you may be doing a lot out of guilt.”

“Guilt!” She pushed him back and sat up again.

“I think you’ve picked up your mother’s attitude, that she and her family are responsible for Caroline’s unhappiness.”

“We’re not.”

“I know that. I just want to make sure you do—and that you’re not trying to make it up to someone who is milking it for all it’s worth.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ivy said, pulling up tufts of grass. “You really don’t know what he’s going through.

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